


It's Fine.

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Bathroom makeouts, Body Image, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Female Friendship, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Healing, Humor, Older Man/Younger Woman, Shirtless Coulson, Simmons and Mack a little in this, Simmons making unedible healthy food, Simmons thinks Coulson is old, Soulmates, sillyfic with feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 16:24:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7899745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything has changed, and Daisy sees Coulson in a different light and starts to re-evaluate their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Fine.

“What a day. I think I’d like to settle down with a nice cup of tea.”

“That sounds nice,” Daisy answers, as they start to walk together towards the kitchen.

Then she remembers the flash drive stashed in her field suit.  The data she’s kept on the accounts where she’s put the money Hive stole from Malick.  The accounts set up to benefit Robin and her mother.

She can’t let that go.

“Hey,” she says, stopping in the hall. “You go on ahead, I just have to go back to the locker room for a sec.”

Jemma smiles at her, with a quick nod, then heads on as she turns back around.

And it’s not like the new Director is awful, but he’s at least awful enough that she doesn’t quite trust him to not go through her stuff.

It’s sort of like having a probation officer, she guesses, as she passes through the door and heads towards her locker. It’s better to not have to explain it to him at-

All.

She tries not to stare, and realizes there’s no way it’s not happening, and turns away so quickly it almost makes her head spin.

“Sorry,” she says, tilting her head up at the ceiling, embarrassed by her reaction. “I didn’t mean-“

“It’s fine,” he answers, and she can hear the rustle of his clothing as he quickly pulls the t-shirt on.

He must’ve hung back to change after the team filed out. Because he didn’t want them to see his scar.  Which, she’s never seen, either, but that’s not why-

“I _am_ sorry,” she repeats. “I mean, you obviously wanted privacy,” she goes on, then turns around again to find him standing right behind her.

“Daisy,” he says quietly, meeting her eyes. “It’s fine.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” she repeats.

There’s nothing else she probably _should_ say at the moment, so she bites her bottom lip watching the twitch in his jaw.

Then he just blinks at her, and makes his way around her, out the door as she sets her hand on the handle of her locker.

And lets go of the breath she was holding.

 

#

 

She slides into the chair across from Jemma, startling her enough that she rolls her eyes in annoyance at almost spilling her tea.

“Jemma,” she starts in, then looks around the rest of the room conspiratorially, before leaning in.

“What is it?” Jemma answers, looking a little unsettled.

“You’ve done physicals on the team, right?”

“Yes.”

“And on Coulson before?”

“Yes,” she says, as her eyes get slightly wider. “Although he’s somewhat of a private person, as you well know.”

“Yeah, and he’s _hot_.”

“I’m sorry,” she answers, tilting her head a little in confusion. “He’s what?”

“He’s _hot_ ,” Daisy repeats, checking the room again. “Why didn’t you ever mention this?”

“ _Daisy_.”  It comes out along with nervous laughter. “I mean, I suppose he’s not unattractive.  But he’s…was…the Director.  When did you-“

“Just now,” she interjects.  “In the locker room.  Anyway, now I’m worried he thinks his scar made me uncomfortable.”

“It _is_ rather large,” Jemma admits pushing the other cup of tea towards her.  “Here, this will help settle you.”

“It’s just that I was unprepared,” Daisy answers her, and sits back in the chair and blows across the top of the mug. “That’s all.”

“Wellll,” Jemma cuts in. “He _has_ been a field agent for most of his career, although, quite a bit older.”

“And kind of lean, but muscular?” she goes on.  “Everywhere.  You know, I checked out his butt once, and it was pretty-”

“Imagine how uncomfortable he might feel,” Jemma hums, then sips at her tea. “If he knew we were talking about him like this?  He’s very private.  And gentlemanly.”

She pushes the chair back from the table, and stands. 

“You’re right. I have to say something.  He never will. So he doesn’t think the _other_ thing.  After everything he’s been through, I would feel awful if he thought I felt that way.”

“It seems your mind is made up, then,” she agrees, and watches Daisy settle on it, then walk away.

“Oh dear,” she adds aloud to herself, and sips the rest of her tea.

 

#

She taps her knuckle against the door of his bunk a few times, and is about to turn away when the door cracks open.

“Daisy?”

He sounds surprised, which, is probably pretty logical since she’s never been in his quarters even once in all the time she’s known him.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?”

“It’s late,” he points out, but opens the door wider.

“It won’t take long, it’s just about…earlier.”

“I already told you, it’s-“

“Fine, yes, that’s what you said.  Can I come in, though, and finish?”

“Sure,” he says, stepping out of the way so she can make her way inside.

She can’t help but look around the room.  It has a few familiar things, mostly collectibles, and everything is pretty neat.

All things in their place, and the details vague enough that you can’t just walk in here and get a sense of who he really is immediately.

“You were going to finish something?” he interrupts and she swings around to meet his eyes.

She takes in a breath, and then begins. “When I walked in on you earlier, I overreacted, and I’m really sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. It’s taking some getting used to,” he admits. “Not having privacy, which, none of you were afforded,” he says apologetically. “And, my stepping down as Director has brought up the subject again. Rather painfully.”

“Your scar.  The way you came back,” she nods, as he frowns slightly.

“Yes.”

“This wasn’t about your scar, although I’m glad you’re sharing this. It was about _you_. Um. The so much of you, all at once?” she stops, scratching her nails against her forehead. “This sounded better in theory.”

“Okay.”  But his face doesn’t look like he’s really agreeing so much as giving her a pause to regather her thoughts.

“I didn’t want you to think I was checking you out,” she shrugs, tossing it out there.

That seems to puzzle him a little, but she can see one corner of his mouth start to turn up.

“Because, I respect you,” she finishes. 

“Thanks.”

 

#

 

“And then I just said I should probably go, and so I did.”

“It’s been fine since then?” she asks. “Your little _problem_?”

“Uh huh,” she replies, looking around the lab, then taking a sip off the protein shake.  “I mean, we’re colleagues.  I am totally capable of being professional.”

“At all times, I’m sure of it,” Jemma smiles with a raise of her eyebrow, as she stops typing at the keyboard for a moment.  “How is it?”

“They’re getting better,” Daisy replies, and stretches a smile over her face.   She loves Jemma, but she’s only drinking this because she needs it.  All of that time using her powers on her own requires more than just emotional healing.

She’s had to accept focusing on herself in a lot of ways.

“Ladies,” Mack says in greeting, putting down a company briefcase in between them on the lab table. “Got something for you, Simmons.”

“Oooh, how exciting.  Is it alien, Inhuman, or magic?” she jokes.

“It’s green and aggressive,” Coulson says from behind them, holding his hand against his upper arm.

“Make that two things,” Mack sighs, thumbing back at his partner.  “The Director wants you to analyze it, and fix him up.”

“What happened?” Daisy asks, as Simmons motions him over to the empty cot and takes his hand away when a tech appears to hand her equipment.

“It managed to wrap a thorny tentacle around my arm,” he winces as Simmons looks at the neat row of bloody puncture wounds.

“Perfect workout for my shotgun axe,” Mack mentions, twisting the weapon in his hand so they can see the green fluid on it.  “Thought you might like to take a sample from this?”

“Yes,” Simmons replies, pointing to another tech who takes it off his hands. “Are you having any unusual symptoms?”

“Good old fashioned pain,” he sighs, as she rips open the sleeve of his shirt up to his shoulder.  “I think it’s some kind of bio-weapon.”

“At least your well-formed bicep is still intact,” Simmons replies, letting the tech apply the hypo spray, and enjoying the appalled expression on his face.

Then he trains his narrowed eyes on Daisy.

She sucks on the last bit of her shake innocently, as Mack starts to laugh, looking between them.

 

#

 

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

She takes her hands away, because she really doesn’t want to argue about this.  If he wants to wrestle his own shirt off, fine, let him.

“Only, you didn’t see, because you looked away _before_ you could see.”  He sits back and puts his hands behind him on the bathroom counter.

“This is why only people with powers should take on other people with powers,” she chides him, brushing aside his comment, and starting to undo the buttons again.

She can’t believe he’s still holding onto that.  It was over a month ago.  It’s not like she’s been revisiting it. 

Much.

Only once in the kitchen, when she bumped into him sneaking ice cream in the middle of the night.  In his sweatpants, and barely got in an eyeful before he was gone.

“I didn’t exactly have that option,” he mutters, then sucks in a breath as she examines the burn marks across his chest. “He was after me.”

“Looks like it hurts,” she says, crouching and opening the door below the sink to look through it for supplies.

“I’ve had worse,” he answers sarcastically, and she looks up to see him staring down at her, while she piles the supplies up onto the counter.

“Still, be more careful,” she tells him, anyway. 

It’s not too hard to slip him out of the button down shirt, it’s when they get to his undershirt, where the scorched fabric is matted with his chest hair.

They haven’t talked about it, not really.  Why she ran.  The reasons she came back were practical, but mixed with other complicated reasons.

She knows he suspects, though.  And it’s been really weird to watch him from the outside in, almost like she did when they first met.

And like then, they still have this connection that they can’t exactly deny.

“Ouch,” he complains, when she pours some of the antiseptic on the pad and places it over the burn. 

It’s near his scar.  His heart.

“One of these days,” she tells him, as she slowly inches the shirt loose, then takes up the scissors to cut through what’s left of it.

Glancing up, she already knows that his eyes are on her, but she stares back, sees him try to figure out what to do with that for a change.

His eyes start to soften on her, and after a few rapid blinks, he asks her quietly, “One of these days, what?”

“Hold still.”  Even though he’s not moving, she fits the bandage over his chest carefully and then presses the tape to set it in place.

“One of these days I’ll tell you what I really think,” she finally answers, with a big sigh, suddenly unsure of where to put her hands, and ending with one on his shoulder.

His reaches out and touches her wrist, drawing her hand away from him, but he holds onto her lightly, doesn’t let go.

“Tell me now?” 

She opens her mouth to say something, reaching for the right words, then closes it and leans forward to press her lips soft against his, once, and feels him go rigid.

When she pulls back, it’s not so far that she’ll have to meet his eyes again just yet.

His fingers flex around her wrist in a squeeze and then let go, resting on the countertop.  But she can tell that his hand is trembling.

“It’s fine,” she promises him, shutting her eyes for a moment.  This has always been complicated, and it’s only become more so after spending six months apart.

Everything around them changed but it doesn’t mean this has to.  She’s kept telling herself that she’s allowed to want more, but that doesn’t mean-

“I’m sorry,” he says, tilting his head to look at her, and touches his hand along her hair. “It just surprised me. Can I kiss you?”

She’s almost unbelieving, but nods in answer and lets him kiss her, kissing back as her hand slides up along his chin and his fingers weave through her hair, drawing his nails along her scalp.  Her other hand moving his knee out of the way, so she can fit her body in closer against his.

He leans further back against the sink, giving her access to more of himself, and the way his tongue slides carefully into her mouth, feels somehow familiar a gesture, but wrapped in something new.

And she doesn’t have a real answer, if she were asked.  How she could feel this close after being apart, when they should both be so numb.

But it’s the first time she’s felt in ages like she isn’t giving a part of herself away.


End file.
